Scenes Through my Head
by Lavaflow
Summary: A home for any orphan one-shots that I write.


A/N:

I decided to start a fic for those scenes that run through my head with little or no outer story context.

_Ave Gaia _will be updated, I know the next chapter. I just have to muster up the will to write the bloody thing.

_Firestorm_

* * *

"And with your so-called savior gone, there is nobody who can stop me!" Voldemort cackled, more than a hint of madness tinging his voice.

"If you think we will simply roll over and let you kill us, you are sorely mistaken" Neville spat, standing at the head of the remaining defenders of Hogwarts. Their meagre forces, barely two score strong, were badly outnumbered by the veritable legion of enemies facing them. They would die bravely. They would not die alone. But they would die.

Voldemort smirked cruelly as he raised his wand to snuff out the life of the boy in front of him, who dared to defy him, HIM, Lord Volde-

"Incendio". The incantation was not loud, but it carried from behind the Dark forces to all ears present. Voldemort whirled, snarling, to see a massive gout of flame rising from a lone figure to cover the night sky above the centre of his forces.

The flame faded as the figure flicked his wand to break the magical connection to the fire, and the heat from the fire a dozen meters over his head ceased to bear down on the Dark Lord. As he began to advance on the figure, it began speaking.

"It is a curious phenomenon, you know" the person spoke, almost whimsically. "Darkness-that is, the moral alignment of being Dark- is so often associated with coldness, and thus with the fundamental element of water." Flames sparked from his wand, dancing in the air with mesmerizing patterns. "The association with cold stems, of course, from the art of Necromancy. The dead are cold, and that fact seems to bring the cold to everything Dark." Now the sparks had turned into a trail of fire, following the path of the wand as it lazily wove through the air. "It is almost a pity that such a widespread belief is false, as Dark is more closely associated with Air. After all, much of Darkness is being beholden to none, having the freedom to do as you please, regardless of the view of or impact upon others." By now, the flames had begun dancing upon the cloaked figure, who seemed unaffected by the flame, even as it burned the grass beneath it's' feet.

"Of course, the opposite is also true" it-he?- continued, unbothered that almost every wand on both sides pointed in his direction. "The Light is understandably associated with Fire, an element of purity and warmth. But again, this is not quite accurate, as the Light is, magically speaking, Earth- for the Light is about helping others, and therefore is the foundation of society. So Dark and Light are indeed opposites, simply not the opposites everyone seem to believe they are." Here the body was swaying, mentally lost in his own world. "Water is the balancer. It allows Earth and Air to interact, to blend, to mix. It helps all who come. And Fire is, indeed, the purifier. Of course, purity works both ways."

The flames had stopped dancing. They were unnaturally still, waiting. "Fire can consume the source of Light in in the Dark. Or…" And here the body ceased it's swaying, standing stock still.

"Or" The voice was unnaturally flat. Harsh.

"Fire can cleanse the Light of it's Dark impurities" As the words boomed across the battlefield, the very air around the man had spontaneously combusted. Before Voldemort could call an order, cast a spell, do something, _anything_, the conflagration surged forward, engulfing the entire army. Neville stood in shocked silence. He could hardly bear to look into the flames, but he forced himself to watch the demise of his foes. The roaring of the all-consuming inferno drowned out any screams that should have come, but it was horrifying. The raging firestorm consumed the entire flied where once stood the most powerful Dark force to ever be raised. Dementors screeched soundlessly the intense heat destroyed the very essence of their twisted being, while giants roared in pain as flame vaporized their skin and each subsequent layer of their bodies. Witches and Wizards tried desperately tried to cast Flame-Freezing charms with burning wands and oxygen-deprived lungs, only for those few who succeeded to realize that such charms were utterly _useless._ And through it all, the caster cackled madly, head thrown back to embrace the heat, reveling in the all-consuming fire.

And Voldemort stood stock still, staring at the now-revealed face of the one who could kill him.

Tom Riddle embraced death at last.

Some unknowable time later, the flames died. Neville looked across the charred field –_no signs of life, not even skeletons- _and met the silent, burning eyes of their savior. A moment- again timeless- and something passed between the two. Neither could have told anyone what it was.

Harry James Potter took one last look at the destruction he had wrought –_Merlin what have I done_\- and turned, walking back into the forest he must have come out of.

None ever saw him again.

* * *

Omake/Alternate Ending

"Fire can cleanse the Light of it's Dark impurities!"

Harry spun slightly, and with a _crack_ of Apparation was in the middle of the Dark forces. Raising his wand into the air, he cried out

"I cast Fireball centered on myself!"


End file.
